


A Little Help, Please

by Shadowstar



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Meet-Cute, Semi-Public Sex, Wall Sex, semi-public blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowstar/pseuds/Shadowstar
Summary: Sam has to pick out clothing for his sister, Sarah's, wedding, and could use a little help. Lucky for him, he gets it, andthen some
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51
Collections: Sam Wilson Bingo 2020





	A Little Help, Please

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Sam Wilson 2020 Bingo](https://samwilsonbingo.tumblr.com/).  
>  **Title:** A Little Help, Please  
>  **Square Filled:** Fluff Card, B4  
>  **Pairings/Ship(s):** Steve/Sam  
>  **Rating:** E  
>  **Major Tags:** Meet-Cute, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-Public Blowjobs, Wall Sex  
>  **Warnings/Triggers:** None  
>  **Word Count:** 4369  
>  **Summary:** Sam has to pick out clothing for his sister, Sarah's, wedding, and could use a little help. Lucky for him, he gets it, and _then some_
> 
> As usual, HUGE shoutout to [Rex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandasaurusRex) for once again betaing this and making it readable. I dunno what I'd do without you, bby!!

Sam hated shopping for clothes.

That was it, the whole story, honestly. When he normally had to go shopping Sam grabbed the shirts and pants in colors he knew looked good on him and called it good. He was, largely, a jeans-and-tee shirt kind of guy.

But, now. Oh, _now_ Sarah was getting married, and Sam was shopping for something to wear. He'd been told multiple times that, no, he could _not_ just go to Target for the items necessary to not embarrass his stressed sister. So, he'd done the only thing any respectable man would do: he asked his _other_ sister for some help on the matter of fashion and what to wear to a wedding.

Her response?

" _Sam, if you don't know how to dress yourself by now, you are in big trouble_ ; _just go to Macy's or something._ "

Thanks, Maddy, _big help_.

Sam hadn't gone to Macy's, though; the giant red star just screamed nightmare scenario in his head. Instead, he'd ended up at Dillard's, and he wasn't sure he's any better off. Already, he'd wandered through the sea of racks, perusing them at his leisure. Honestly, he'd been kind of impressed that he'd managed to find a handful of items that would--hopefully-- not offend Sarah's far more developed sense of fashion, and _not_ make Maddy laugh her head off at him.

He's already anticipating his mother rolling her eyes, and his father sighing at him that he'd let his sisters bully him into something, again. But, what could he say, he wanted to keep the peace. And, honestly, it was Sarah's big day, not his; she had asked a simple request not to wear his usual holey jeans to her wedding, and the _least_ he could do was comply.

It didn't help the ultimate confusion and despondence that he stared at himself with in the full-length, 360 mirror of the dressing room. The grey slacks were kind of nice, he thought, if a little short. And the white button up wasn't uncomfortable, at least. But it just... Didn't seem like _him_. Neither piece was something he would actually wear again, and that was _more_ than a little frustrating.

"You look lost."

The voice came from behind him, and Sam nearly startled out of his skin. He whipped around with a pounding heart, brown eyes narrowed and his lips parted to deliver a sharp retort on sneaking up on people, but he found the words completely fleeing at the warm blue eyes that met his.

Sam cleared his throat, feeling wrong-footed, and not a little out of sync. "I, uh. I am," he admitted, clearing his throat again when his voice came out rougher than it should.

Those blue eyes--so, so impossibly blue, holy _shit_ \--tracked over him for a moment before a wide, bright grin broke over the slightly taller man's face. "Well, you look nice, at least?"

The offer of a compliment, awkward but genuine, had Sam chuckling, once again startled. At least this time, his heart didn't feel like it's going to jackrabbit out of his chest. "Thanks," he returned dryly, shaking his head. "Problem is, these aren't..." He trailed off with a frustrated sigh, waving his hand, making the tag on the sleeve flop around. "I don't normally wear stuff like this. But my little sister's getting married, and she asked me to wear something nice."

The tall man nodded sagely, coming closer. "Well. What about it do you not like?" Blondie asked, beforeholding up a finger after a second to be able to half-jog into an empty room and set his own stack of clothes down on a bench to, Sam assumed, try on at some point. That brief second gave Sam a _beautiful_ look at the man's back and ass. When Blondie returned to Sam's side, Sam just hoped that it wasn't _too_ obvious he'd been checking the guy out.

_Too_ obvious. He was single, and he knew he was hot, but he didn't want to give up the game _too_ easily.

He'd been asked a question, though. So, he returned his attention to his reflection, once again taking in his appearance. The cut of the slacks was good; showed off his ass without being overly tight. The shirt was a good fit, not bunching up or anything. But it was just..."There's no color," Sam finally declared, pinpointing the real problem.

"It does seem kind of monotone," Blondie agreed, motioning to the outfit as a whole. He hummed and stepped closer, becoming a line of radiant body heat along Sam's spine. It'd be so, _so_ easy to shift and lean back into that solid body, but Sam refrained.

Barely.

"Maybe if I switch the shirt out...?" Sam mused, hands on his hips, pursing his lips as he studied the outfit. His eyes caught sight of the man standing behind him doing much the same, though that electric blue gaze settled on an area that decidedly was having _no_ problems at the moment.

_Heh_. Jackpot.

"Yeah. Yeah, that could work. I could grab it for you; what size?" The man quickly volunteered, all eager-to-please, and Sam bit back a grin.

"Large'll do it. Nothing too dark, though; it's a wedding, not a funeral," he reminded the man, who smirked at him in return. There's a challenge in those eyes, a _dare_ , and oh, okay, _that's_ how it was gonna be. Got it.

"I think I know just the color," the man hummed, low and close. Much, much closer than Sam had expected the man to get, and should he be pushing him back? He probably should. They were in Dillard's, a changing room, and he still had to find clothes. He didn't want to get kicked out for leaving a mess that had nothing to do with the act of trying on clothes.

Though, it was the 'on' part that would be in question, huh.

"I think I can trust your judgement. Though, it'd be nice to have a _name_ to add to this little trust exercise," Sam returned when the man didn't immediately move away.

"Steve. You can call me Steve."

Sam refrained from arching an eyebrow at the 'can call me' part, focusing instead on the way the man has, somehow, drifted continually closer, but still wasn't touching him. The air between them was _electric_ , thick with the sort of tension that Sam used to thrive on when he was younger and actively played the field more openly. These days, he tended to stick to the occasional flip through on dating sites and blind dates setup by his friends. But _this_...

This was something new, and he _liked_ it.

"Alright, then Steve. I trust that you're not gonna make me look like a total clown," Sam grinned, voice low and caught in the scant air between them.

"And who do I look for when I come back?" the man, Steve, asked, tilting his chin a little to be able to look Sam straight in the eyes. It's an oddly comfortable sort of posture that Steve had adopted, sure without being overly cocky.

Sam wondered if that posture would stay in place if he turned and shoved Steve up against the wall of the dressing room and kissed him breathless.

"Sam," he introduced, grin widening. He didn't offer his hand; Steve hadn't. And, hell, Sam's pretty sure they'd _already_ moved beyond a simple handshake, if the flirting was anything to go by.

"Okay, Sam, I'll be right back with something colorful that won't make you look like a clown," Steve promised, rolling Sam's name around in his mouth like it's his new favorite flavor. There's a brief press of heat against his lower back, a large hand that felt almost like a _brand_ , and then Steve was moving away, back out into the sea of racks, leaving Sam to sway in the sudden loss of closeness and heat.

_Damn_. Well, okay, then.

He retreated to his dressing room, removing the shirt he'd tried on and putting it carefully back onto the hanger. After smoothing the fabric down, he turned to the much smaller mirror in the little cubicle, double checking how his ass looked in the pants he's wearing. Okay, the pants were really starting to grow on him. Still a little too short, though.

"Sam?" The return of Steve's voice once again startled the man in question, though far less than the initial encounter. Huffing a soft breath, glaring at himself in the mirror like that would actually help get his own head on straight, Sam didn't think twice about opening the door to the room.

"Right here," he called back, getting Steve's attention from a few stalls down. The reaction is definitely everything Sam could have hoped for: the blond turns towards the sound of Sam's voice, only to completely freeze when he caught sight of the bare-chested man, blue eyes trailing over brown skin with a hunger that's almost physical in its weight. _Definitely_ appreciative, and, oh look, the man _blushes_. Sam's grin widened, turning mildly wicked when blue eyes finally met his and that flush deepened.

"I, uh. I found-- shirt. A shirt." Steve seemed to have lost the ability to form whole sentences, an endearing reaction as the man moved towards him. Unsurprising, Steve didn't just hand over the shirt, instead crowding into Sam's space and gently ushering the shorter man back into the cubicle, the heavy door closing behind Steve with a resounding _click_. It really hadn't been built for two broad, fully grown men, but Sam definitely did not mind being pressed into the thin little wall next to the mirror, Steve crowded close. That was, of course, when Steve paused, a flash of honest worry on the man's face.

"This's. It's okay, right? I'm not intruding, or anything?" the man rushed to ask, reaching to set aside the hangers in his hand; a shirt and, oh, the man really _was_ perfect: Steve had apparently picked up a pair of slacks that seemed to be a little longer than the ones Sam was wearing now. It'd be impossible to tell without trying them on, but right now, Sam had more important things to worry about.

"Yeah, this is okay. More than okay. Wouldn't mind you pressing me up against the sturdier outer wall and fucking me senseless, but I would rather not get kicked outta here; really do gotta find something for my sister's wedding. That, y'know, you should come with me to; a weird first date, but it can't be weirder than how my parents met." Apparently, him trying to find all the reasons not to screw around in the cubicle made him babble. Who knew.

"Well. I'm gonna kiss you, now, if that's okay," Steve returned, his voice deepening, lowering intimately as he crowded impossibly further into Sam's space. Steve's large, warm hands ended up against the skin of Sam's sides, earning a shudder and a jerky nod. The nod barely finished before Steve was diving in and kissing him, sharp and hot, clearly as hungry for it as Sam was.

Sam's hands wound up in Steve's hair, completely wrecking what little bit of a style the man had had to it, clutching to anchor himself through the tidal wave of heat, slick tongues, and panted breaths. The fact that they could be caught at any moment, could be asked to _leave_ , only made it _hotter_. The need to stay quiet, even as they shifted and tilted their heads, learning the angles of the other, trying to find the perfect one, was emphasized by the distant sound of one of the other cubicle doors closing. They slowed their pace, trying to quiet the sound of their kissing, still clutched together as they tasted and learned.

Of course, despite the ability to breathe through his nose, Sam found he did have to pull his mouth away to suck in a proper breath, still holding tightly to Steve with his whole body. At some point, they had shifted over to the sturdier wall, and Steve was supporting him, pressing him against the cool, taupe-painted wall, one hand slipped behind Sam to squeeze and massage at one muscular ass cheek through the slacks he'd been trying on. Despite the need for air, their foreheads pressed together, sharing panting breaths, listening intently as the other patron rustled and cursed and fought with their clothes. There was a much louder curse after the sound of ripping clothes, and both men trying desperately to remain quiet grinned stupidly at each other before smothering snickers into each other's shoulders.

They both remained still and as quiet as they could, catching their breath. They're pressed close from shoulder to hip, and Sam's intimately aware of the hard, hot length pressed against his through layers of fabric. Just like, he's pretty damn sure, Steve's just as aware, on the opposite side. But they both had come to a silent agreement: to wait until the other person had left.

After a long moment of silence, there's another curse, and what sounded an awful lot like a shoe hitting a wall. Then there's another pause, some more rustling, and finally the slam of a cubicle door. Seconds later the sound of footsteps moving away also came.

Sam gave it another minute before he chuckled, low and rough and not a little turned on. "Christ, feel like I'm in high school again," he laughed, low and muffled by Steve's shoulder.

"Well, gotta say, I'm definitely a lot better at blow jobs now than I was in high school." Steve paused, and Sam reluctantly pulled his face from that warm, steady shoulder that his head fit perfectly on. He looked up into solemn blue eyes, finding the flicker of a burning fire that was threatening to consume them both at the moment. "I wanna blow you, Sam. Peel you out of those pants and swallow you down, wanna see if you'll be nice and quiet for me."

Well, if Sam hadn't been hard before, he would most definitely be _now_.

As it is, he surged forward and into another kiss to muffle his groan, shifting to be able to line up their cocks and grind right up against Steve. Steve's hand ended up under his ass, encouraging him, pressing in close to rock back into the v created by Sam's thigh and pelvis, right up against the bulge of Sam's own cock.

The feeling of it has Sam ripping his mouth away again, biting back the groan that wanted to surface, clutching at the taller man. Steve and the wall were the only reasons he's not laying in a Sam-shaped-goo-puddle on the floor of the cubicle. Steve's grinning wolfishly when Sam blinked his eyes open to look up at the taller man, head knocking back against the solid wall, dazed and breathless.

"Can I take that as a yes to the blow job?" Steve asked, all smirking confidence and sheer audacity to think that Sam could _possibly_ string two coherent words together right this second. _Asshole_. God, why was he enjoying this so much?

"You don't make good on your promise, you are a dead man," Sam threatened, already knowing there was no way he would _actually_ carry out on the threat. Well, sort of; he'd been told several times in the past that his puppy dog eyes _were_ pretty killer. He just had to hope that that fact remained the same. Then, of course, he stopped Steve, who'd gone to shift to his knees. "What about you?"

Steve's eyebrows shot up, but his face softened, and the next kiss he gave Sam was slow, almost tender in response. It surprises the breath right out of Sam again, for wholly different reasons this time, especially when Steve's hands came up to frame Sam's face in a similarly tender touch.

"Can I take you to dinner, after? I mean, once we're done getting you something for your sister's wedding." The last sounded like an after thought, but Steve was once again giving him that face of the over-eager puppy looking desperately for attention and love. And, oh _god_ , Sam could not _possibly_ be thinking in the 'l' word yet, that was just-- _**no**_!

"Yeah," he breathed instead, thumbs tracing Steve's cheekbones, sharp beneath those beautifully flushed cheeks. The grin he got in return was wide, bright like the sun, and hell. Sam had to answer with one of his own, helpless against it, even though he'd only known the man for all of twenty minutes, now. "Then we can go back to mine?" The suggestion slipped out of him, tumbled out like a glass knocked over. Spilling water or--no, juice. A juice that stained, pink like the mouth that was begging him to kiss it again.

_Fuck_.

But there's that fire again in Steve's eyes, added into the look of eagerness, pressed into Sam and leaving him mildly light headed when Steve leaned in. But the man didn't go for his lips; instead, Steve trailed tender kisses over Sam's face, soft and sweet, _familiar_ in a way it had no right to be.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds perfect," Steve agreed lowly into Sam's temple, followed by a chuckle. "Gonna see about putting your bed frame to the test." One of Steve's hands started to move from Sam's jaw, fingertips trailing over Sam's bare skin, making him shudder beneath the feather-light touch. "What'd'ya say, Sammy? Blow job, clothes shopping, dinner, then a night of being fucked into the mattress?"

As if Sam hadn't already made the decision when he'd asked Steve to come back to his when all was said and done. _Seriously_.

"Catch up, Steven; that was the plan the moment I asked you back to mine," he returned, speaking his thoughts and earning a low rumbling chuckle that Sam could feel with his whole body. It caused yet another shudder to rush through him, all too aware of just how close they are. Of how easily they could be caught, still. And yet, apparently, the blow job was happening anyway.

The whole thing was honestly exciting. And wrong, so wrong, oh god, yes please.

Sam's head once again _thunked_ back against the wall as Steve followed his hand's trail with lips still slick from their kissing. The kisses he smeared into Sam's skin were biting, caressing, promising. Slowly, Steve worked his way down Sam's neck, throat, paying special attention to the dip in Sam's collarbone. He paused, though, slightly bent over Sam's chest when Sam arched into the taller man, fingers burying in Steve's hair and _holding_ him there. The other hand clutched at one of the sleeves of Steve's shirt, holding on for dear life as he's inundated with pleasure. His chest has always been sensitive, and apparently Steve _liked_ that.

Sam had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle his groan as Steve paid special attention to his nipples, both tight with arousal and now being manipulated. While Steve's mouth paid homage to one, his fingers pinched and teased and rolled the other against calluses that spoke to frequent use of Steve's hands. That promised all kinds of good and amazing things that Sam would like to think more about, if only he had the necessary brain power to do so.

As it is, he's starting to worry about the pants he was wearing; he hadn't been planning on buying them, but at the rate that Steve is playing with his chest, he might have to in order to keep from, once again, being kicked out of the place. As if sensing where his thoughts were going, Steve abandoned the nub his fingers had been manipulating, getting between them to get at the button and zipper on the slacks. Sam used what little brain power he had in his head and not in his cock to keep his hands out of the way, continuing to clutch at Steve instead; given how ramped up he is, he'd be little more than a hindrance at this point.

Steve got his pants open, thankfully, and Sam did actually help in this process, getting them pushed down past his hips to pool on the floor. They're quickly kicked aside, only to be joined by his boxers moments later. It left him completely naked beneath Steve's mouth and hands, even while the taller man remained fully clothed. The thought of it had him shivering, breath catching, understanding just what kind of position that put him in. Despite the excitement, Steve's hands remained gentle on his skin, keeping him steady with a firm hold. Slowly, seemingly reluctantly, Steve's head tilted, and Sam was immediately caught in an electric blue gaze. So, as a result, Sam was forced to watch as Steve dropped to his knees in a fluid motion.

Steve still had him caught when he swallowed Sam's cock whole, not teasing at _all_. Sam forced his fist into his mouth again to bite down on the cry, though some noise did still make it past. He wanted to point out that he hadn't considered himself to be _noisy_ before, but that would take some articulation he doesn't have at the moment. His brain was entirely focused on the way his nerves were lit up by the blond on his knees between Sam's thighs, those pretty pink lips stretched around his shaft, as lewd an image as Sam's brain had ever managed to come up with.

"Steve," he managed, breathy and reverent, hoping the man understood just what he was trying to say with just the man's name. Steve hummed around his cock, which felt _damn_ good in its own right, but then the man is doubling his efforts. Apparently, the message that it'd been a while, and that as wound up as he was, he was so goddamn _close_ , even though Steve had just started, got through. It's kind of disappointing, actually, but Steve seemed more than happy to oblige, large hands massaging his hips, one even trailing up to tease at his chest.

And, of course, just as Sam'd thought, it really didn't take much. Steve pressed in to take _all_ of him, the head of Sam's cock actually slipping into his throat, and after a single swallow, Sam was _gone_. He didn't even have a chance to give any sort of warning, his head tilting back and knocking into the wall behind him. He didn't cry out, though; Sam managed to somehow pull it in with a breath, to hold it behind clenched teeth as he shuddered apart in Steve's hold. And still, Steve's hands were gentle, reverent, his mouth easing Sam through it.

And, fuck, Steve even pulled up Sam's boxer briefs for him, pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin just below Sam's bellybutton once the waistband was settled on his hips. Never once did Steve's hands leave him as the man stood up, gently bundling him close once he's up. Sam went greatly with a rough chuckle, tucking his face into Steve's neck, entirely grateful for the warm support of the man he's leaning into.

"How is this my life, huh?" Sam mused, chuckling still. Steve was hard against his hip, but seemed to be ignoring it for the moment, so Sam did the same. The fabric of Steve's t-shirt was seemingly extra-soft, just as the worn nature of his jeans seemed a mix of rough-soft against Sam's thighs below the edge of his boxer briefs. Everything felt _electric_. "How is it that I came in to get stuff for my sister's wedding and ended up with a hot guy wrapped around me, huh?"

"Could ask the same question," Steve murmured with a chuckle of his own, turning his head and brushing a kiss to Sam's temple. "Not that I mind all that much; kind of nice to have everything I could want or need all in one place."

Sam blinked, then burst into laughter, burying his face once more into Steve's neck. There's a long pause, and Sam could feel the heat of Steve's blush against his own face as he spoke. "That... was kind of cheesy, huh."

"Just a little," Sam agreed, giving the man a warm squeeze. "But I like cheesy, so you're in luck."

"I was serious about the dinner thing. I'd... I mean. I'm not normally just the kinda guy who has sex with someone randomly in a dressing room at Dillard's," Steve rushed on, and Sam gently pulled his head away from Steve's neck to be able to look in the man's face. He looked anxious, worried, and Sam gently framed the man's face between his own calloused palms. Steve went soft, leaning into his touch.

"You're fine, baby," Sam murmured, gently drawing Steve into a quick, sweet kiss. It ended with their foreheads pressed together, and Sam contemplating the taste of himself on Steve's lips. "I'm looking forward to dinner. To learning all kinds of things about you." A grin, broad and lascivious, stretched across his face. "Not least of which what you look like stretched out on my bed."

Steve relaxed further, tilting his head to press another kiss to Sam's lips, only to have it turn into another. And another. And _another_. The last had Sam chuckling, forcing them apart, only to laugh _again_ at the honest-to-god _pout_ Steve gave, even while Steve smiled with his eyes.

"Clothes, then dinner, then home," Sam declared, patting Steve's chest. It takes him a moment to realize what he'd just said, and _how_ he'd said it, and he glanced at Steve worriedly. He shouldn't have worried, though, because Steve looked legitimately like Sam had just given Steve literally _everything_ he could ever want.

Oh, god, he was in trouble. Sam shook his head mentally, moving to take a look at what Steve'd picked out _before_ the blowjob, giving his hands something to do. He'd just have to see how this all played out. Pausing in his perusal of the clothes he glanced back over his shoulder and was immediately caught by the dopey, almost puppy-eager smile on Steve's lips, able to _feel_ his heart melting in his chest. 

Yeah, no. _Definitely_ in trouble.


End file.
